


Lakesides and Riveras (Alternatively; The Five Times She Called Him Rivera, and The One Time She Called Him Héctor)

by Dinkleberryqueen



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Apollo Son!Hector, Athena Daughter!Imelda, F/M, Percy Jackson/Demigod AU, Pheme Son!Ernesto, five times/one time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 18:16:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14836748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dinkleberryqueen/pseuds/Dinkleberryqueen
Summary: Set across a summer in Camp Halfblood, this is the story of a daughter of Athena, an unclaimed son, the five times she called him Rivera, and the one time she called him Héctor.Based on discussions with chiocetta and amilliondreamsarekeepingmeawake from tumblr, with all of Chio's artwork for the AU here: http://chioccetta.tumblr.com/search/pjo+auThe third time is based off this piece here: http://chioccetta.tumblr.com/post/171607618290/hurt-more-pjo-au-wooo-this-is-based-on-an-idea





	1. The First Time

The first was, of course, when they first met. It was a Saturday, and a particularly hot one for May. The children of the Aphrodite cabin were, of course, strutting around in as little clothing as they could get away with, looking unfairly flawless in the sweltering heat. Even some of the other demigods had submitted to the climbing temperatures, either lazing around in shorts and bikinis – or simply just shorts for the boys – or flocking down to the cooling retreat of the lake.  
Héctor Rivera was one of those down by the lake, though his friend had unwillingly dragged him – and, Héctor supposed, his mentor in the ways of Camp Halfblood – Ernesto de la Cruz. Ernesto had two summers on Héctor, despite not staying for the whole year round. That did not particularly matter to Héctor; it simply meant he had more time to himself and his music when Ernesto was not around. What did matter, though, was the way Ernesto so casually reacted to _her_ arrival.  
“Aye, amigo, look. We’ve got ourselves a new arrival.” Ernesto nudged Héctor as he climbed back onto the jetty, where Héctor was contently sitting with just his feet in the water. His attention followed Ernesto’s gaze towards the camp, from which approached a young girl. With her dark hair braided over her shoulder, and her sarong fluttering in the gentle, yet unbearably warm wind, she could have easily been mistaken for a daughter of Aphrodite. And, in all fairness, Héctor would have been quiet content with simply watching, had it not been for Ernesto’s brazen attitude pulling him to his feet and towards the girl.  
“Has Aphrodite blessed us with another of her beautiful children?” Ernesto grinned crookedly, somehow carrying a certain attractive arrogance about himself as he approached the newcomer.  
“Aphrodite? Please, anyone but those vain airheads.” The girl rolled her eyes, “If I’m a daughter of Aphrodite, then I’m sure you’re one of Ares’ arrogant sons.” Ouch. She did not even know Ernesto’s name, and yet she was already insulting him. That at least was apparent on the oldest boy’s face. Héctor was too terrified to speak, for fear of being insulted as well, but he knew he couldn’t just stand still and say nothing, especially not if that included staring like a love struck fool. _Oh no…_

 “Well, aren’t you two going to introduce yourselves? Or do I have to start this as well?” The girl raised a sharp eyebrow, her arms folded over her chest and her weight on one leg as she sighed. A simple shake of her head was all she gave them, “Well, my name is Imelda Rivera, daughter of Athena, and yes, as you’ve already worked out, I am new here. Now, it’s your turn.”  
“Oh, ah… Ernesto de la Cruz, son of the goddess Pheme.” The taller boy bowed and then stood tall again, flashing that grin of his as he slicked his wet hair back, all in one fluid and practiced movement. Héctor was still staring. Noticing this as he glanced at his friend, Ernesto rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, subtly nudging Héctor with his elbow.  
“O-Oh!” The younger was knocked slightly off balance by the unexpected nudge. Whether the heat on his face was from the sun, or him blushing, it was difficult to tell. “Um-“ he cleared his throat, feeling his voice ready to crack. Damn puberty… “H-Héctor Rivera, uh… I haven’t yet been claimed…,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Looking at Imelda quickly became akin to staring into the sun.  
Satisfied with her eventual answer, Imelda gave a short hum, “Well then, de la Cruz, Rivera, it was nice to get some sort of conversation out of you. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to go and find Dionysus so that I may have a competent tour of the camp.” And with that, Imelda gave a sharp nod and walked off, leaving both boys in slack-jawed awe, staring at the daughter of Athena and then at each other.  
Whether it was the heat, or the heart-stopping encounter with Imelda, Héctor decided that he needed to cool off before he passed out.

 


	2. The Second Time

The second followed soon after. A week, to be precise. The air in the camp was still hot and humid, which seemed to have a strange effect on most of the boys. It made them all seemingly braver – or more reckless, depending on who you asked.   
And that was how Héctor found himself at the edge of the lake, staring across a wooden bridge to a small island, on which was a collection of tall but climbable rocks, and a group of foolhardy boys leaping off them. And, of course, Ernesto was one of them. To the unknowing, Ernesto could very easily be one of the few Athena granted her courage to. But then again, courage was often a mistaken label given to the reckless.

“Vamos, amigo!” Ernesto called from the far side of the bridge; his hands were cupped either side of his smug grin. “The bridge is fine, what are you waiting for?” Truth be told, the bridge did not look fine at all. There were already a few planks missing, and it was clear to see that parts of the foundations were rotting thanks to the lake water.  
“Are you sure, Ernesto?” Héctor asked, pressing his foot against the first board of the bridge; it gave an unhealthy sounded creak.  
“It supported all of us, didn’t it? It can take one more.” Ernesto shrugged Héctor’s concern off, something he did often. Sometimes, it worked to make Héctor feel more confident. This wasn’t one of those times. Despite that, Héctor still felt that pressure to be over on the small island with the other boys.  
Sometimes, he wished he never listened to Ernesto.

“See? I told you it’s fine!” Ernesto boasted, arms folded confidently across his chest. The smugness that came with being proven right was radiating off the demigod, despite Héctor not even being halfway across the bridge. Héctor, however, was not feeling the same assurance of the bridge’s stability. It was almost a karmic twist of fate that Héctor was proved right a step later. The unclaimed demigod barely had the time to get a word out to Ernesto when the first board snapped – or rather seemed to crumble – beneath his shoe. In an attempt to save himself, Héctor tried to dash forwards only for a second board to disintegrate beneath his foot, robbing him of the leverage he needed to make it across the bridge.  
“Héctor!” A rare shout of concern came from the son of Pheme as Héctor’s face made a solid contact with one of the solid, dry planks before he slipping down into the water.

 

“…And _another_ thing! Do you even realise what could be swimming in that lake? Sirens, hippocampi, _hydra_? Ridiculous, that any of you would even swim that far out into the lake, let alone jump off rocks into water- did you even _check_ to see how deep it was?”   
Héctor’s head was pounding, and whoever was ranting beside him was not helping in the slightest. His face felt damp, and there was an indescribable pain in his mouth, seeming to come from his upper jaw. What had happened? And why did he feel… cold?  
“And _you,_ Rivera!”  
Well, that certainly got Héctor’s attention, despite only just coming to process the rather angry looking Imelda standing over him, sandal in hand, next to Ernesto, who held a mix of shame and fear on his face; a peculiar mix for the demigod, indeed.  
“M-Me?” Héctor responded, blinking slowly as he pointed to himself.  
“Yes, you! What in the name of Hades were you thinking? Are you really stupid enough to listen to this… this self-centred imbecile?!” Imelda pointed her sandal at Ernesto, who visibly flinched: he had already felt the wrath of la chancla. Héctor was at a loss for words. Not only did Imelda have the guts to be insulting Ernesto in this manner again, but now he was in the firing line. Her radiance was quickly becoming a searing heat, blinding him.  
“I-I thought it w-would be fine?” he attempted, his defense meek and pathetic.  
“Aye aye aye!” Imelda dragged her hand across her face, “I swear, I would slap you if you weren’t already injured! If I catch you doing something stupid again just because _he_ -“ Imelda jabbed an accusatory sandal in Ernesto’s direction, “egged you on to do it, I… I swear by Zeus you won’t want to know!”  
And with that, the blazing sun stormed out of the hospital wing, putting her sandal back on as she walked. And once again, Héctor and Ernesto were left staring in her wake, at a loss for words. Héctor, curious as to what he had done, lifted his hand towards his face; from just feeling, he noticed his split lip and… a gap, where his front left incisor once was.  
“Well, it’s official, amigo. She is far more terrifying than the Titans and Cerberus put together.” Ernesto spoke up after a minute, glancing over to Héctor as the younger sat up.  
“Sí…” Héctor simply agreed. She was terrifying, but easily just as captivating.


	3. The Third Time

The third was arguably his own fault.  
Having been at the camp for about a month and a half, Imelda was now well versed in the boys’ ways, seeming to have a sixth sense as to when, where, and how they would next make a mistake or do something in invoke her wrath. And yet, not even Imelda could have seen this coming.

“You all know the rules. Two teams, hide your flags, first to get the opponent’s flag over the river border wins. No killing, no maiming, and _please_ remember to keep an eye out for the monsters, won’t you?” A rather exasperated Dionysus – or rather, Mr. D. – addressed the campers assembled before him. The god gave a deep sigh before holding his arm out in front of him, “Athena, Hermes, and… Apollo, you’re Red Team. Everyone else is Blue. Off you go.” With that, Mr. D. shooed the campers off with his hand, letting them go off to hide their flags and prepare their strategies. The split conveniently left Héctor, Ernesto, and Imelda all on the Red Team together. Whilst Imelda still intimidated Héctor, he was rather excited by the prospect that he was on the same team and thus would not be the target of her fury. Rumours were already circulating the camp, whispering that Imelda was more likely to be the daughter of the vengeful Nemesis rather than Athena, or even that she was the strange offspring of both goddesses. Of course, none of these rumours were true, what with Imelda having already been claimed by the goddess of war; Héctor could only dream of the day he would be claimed.

The game had been underway for an hour, with few sightings or even words of the Blue team coming near the Red flag that Héctor and Imelda now guarded. Ernesto had gone off with the lead group, being one of the older and stronger campers, and obviously the right choice for the smaller team that would storm the Blue camp and seize their victory. Héctor didn’t particularly mind being left in the back, but what he did mind was the intimidating aura radiating from Imelda. She looked focused, hawk eyes scanning her side of the clearing, whilst Héctor tried to look everywhere at once. In hindsight, perhaps it was a good idea that he was covering the whole area visually.  
There was no way that Imelda could have seen it coming; whilst she looked far off to the right, the hellhound crept in from the left. The creature only partly resembled a dog, with patches of fur across its body, but a flat-faced head full of reptilian teeth that looked sharp enough to pierce flesh. The sight of it chilled Héctor right down to his core, but by then his body possessed by an unfamiliar sensation. Burning, almost…  
“Imelda!” The boy warned, diving between the hellhound and the demigoddess, lifting his shield to block its incoming strike. Rather than being knocked off his feet, Héctor was blinded by a sudden burst of light that seemed to affect Imelda and the hellhound, which barrelled into the flag in a missed pounce. Incomprehensible shapes danced across Héctor’s vision, leaving him dazed at Imelda’s side, but that didn’t stop him from keeping vague tabs on where the hellhound was.  
It wasn’t long before the hellhound was at it again, bombarding the children with claw swipes and leaping bites. It was a miracle that they were lasting even this long against the creature, but it was clear that luck was not to accompany them alone. Whilst Imelda had now drawn her sword, it was clear that she hadn’t fully recovered from being blinded. Which, considering the hellhound’s stalking course towards her, was a serious problem.

Héctor once again interrupted the creature in its attack on the girl, although this time there was no flash of light to help. Charging straight into Héctor, the hellhound sent the boy crashing to the ground a fair few feet away from Imelda, though there was no time for him to throw his shield up; short talons tore through Héctor’s shirt and chest, dragging a cry of pain from the boy as he managed to push his hands beneath the hound’s jaw, keeping its bite at bay. The more Héctor struggled, the more bits of flesh the claws sank into, and the harder it became to keep himself from being bitten.  
That was until the hellhound let out a sharp yelp of pain, turning to growl at the arrow now embedded in the back of its hindquarters. That would have been the cue that Héctor needed to strike, if Imelda’s sword hadn’t sliced a clean arc through the air, ignoring the fact that the hellhound’s neck was directly in its path.

 The now decapitated head barely missed hitting Héctor as the beast crumpled, soon being thrown off to the side by a familiar face with an easily recognisable jaw line.  
“Héctor, what happened?” Ernesto asked, slinging a longbow over his shoulder as he dropped to one knee to lift Héctor to his feet, Imelda taking his other arm.  
“Idiot, you saw what happened.” Imelda scolded him, “A hellhound appeared and attacked us, that’s what happened. Come on, we need to get him back to the camp quickly.”  
“The flag…” Héctor protested as he was practically carried between the two, though he didn’t have the strength nor the energy to defend the flag.  
“It’s fine, amigo. We got the Blue flag, I was just coming back to tell you both.” Ernesto replied, once again pushing Héctor’s worries off to the side as the trio made a beeline for the hospital wing.

 ***

“You really are an idiot, you know that, Rivera?” Imelda shook her head as she wrapped the last part of the bandage around Héctor’s forearm. Her touch was surprisingly gentle despite her disapproving attitude, and even felt a little warm through the bandages.  
“Sí.” Héctor replied, a slight laugh rising in his chest, “I still saved your life though.” He added, smiling warmly.  
“But look at you! You’re covered in bandages and you could’ve easily ended up as hellhound dinner.” She scolded him, tying the final knot on his wrist. Despite that, Héctor’s smile remained; perhaps it was just the after effects as the adrenaline wore off. Realistically, things could’ve gone much worse, so Héctor was lucky to be walking away with a couple of patches and some bandaging around his arm and chest. If the hellhound had scratched any deeper, he surely would’ve been a goner.  
“I know, but I’m here, aren’t I? It’s fine, Imelda. But, thank you for worrying so much.” Héctor opened his eyes, his smile softening as he looked across at Imelda. This time, Héctor was glad that she had faded somewhat from a blazing midday sun, to a gentle, glowing sunset.  
“It’s not like de la Cruz is going to worry this much about you, so somebody has to. Just... don’t do something so reckless next time, you understand?”


	4. The Fourth and Fifth

The fourth and fifth followed close behind each other, both happening on the same day; one in the morning, under the speckled shade of the trees, and one under the cover of darkness, a clandestine escape down to the lakeside.

As was tradition in the last week of summer, a talent show was being hosted, with a variety of campers signing up to show off their talents, whether they be things they had taught themselves, or the innate gifts from their parents. Héctor, however, was playing his usual part; handing out flyers. With no idea of his innate gifts, nor the confidence – both in himself, and in his stage presence - needed to perform, he had never signed up for the show, instead staying behind the scenes. In reality, it was people like him that really made performers famous; after all, how could one’s popularity grow if nobody was aware of their existence?

Héctor had all but finished his task, with just one flyer left to hand out. He knew exactly who it was going to, but that didn’t stop his guts from twisting at the thought of it. He was quickly getting lost in his own head, holding the flyer tight with both hands only to lose sight of his surroundings, particularly her. Imelda appeared before Héctor as if she had simply teleported, stopping Héctor in his tracks. Sitting beneath a large oak tree, in the gap between two protruding roots, Imelda twirled her bangs around her finger as she read, only stopping to turn the page and continue reading. The midmorning sun had been broken up by the thick foliage overhead, but there were still enough patches of radiance to highlight Imelda’s own, whether it added a golden glow to her warm skin, or accentuated the many shades of brown twisting through her braid.  
Whatever it was, Héctor couldn’t breathe.

“What do you want, Rivera?” Imelda’s passive tone forced air back into Héctor’s lungs, which took a moment to remember how to function before he spoke.  
“Uh, I-I came to give you this. It’s the last one, and I thought that you ought to have it, what with you being uh, kinda new and all.” He replied, stepping hesitantly towards the girl. Getting closer to the tree felt as if he was crossing a border into her personal territory, her private bubble of solitude.  
“What is it?” Imelda asked, reaching out to take the flyer. Reading its content with practically a glance, Imelda laughed, “As if there’s anybody talented here. And no, Apollo’s children don’t count; they practically have the cheat’s way out.”  
“Ernesto’s going to be playing his guitar and singing. He’s very good, and he’s not related to Apollo. At least come and see him, please?” Héctor asked, a pleading look on his face. He didn’t want Imelda to be left out, especially not when the show was like a little party every year.  
The daughter of Athena considered the flyer for a moment longer before giving in, “Alright, I’ll come and watch de la Cruz perform. I’ll be the judge of whether he’s good or not. Now, off you go.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand, the motion matching the flutters of Héctor’s heart. Héctor simply nodded.  
“Uh, I guess I’ll see you later then?” he rubbed the back of his neck.  
“We’ll see.” The corner of Imelda’s lips curled up in a smile as she glanced up at Héctor through her eyelashes, returning her attention to her book.

***

It wasn’t until later that evening, after the sun had set, did Héctor see Imelda again. Part of him knew that he shouldn’t be out so late, that one of the camp counsellors would see him, but he had to find Imelda. It was a matter of urgency, or at least it was in Héctor’s eyes.

The unclaimed son just managed to catch Imelda before she could retreat into the Athena cabin for the night, running up the steps to grab her hand, “Imelda!”  
“What? What do you want now? It’s almost curfew.” The brunette pointed out, glancing from Héctor’s face down to their hands and back up again. She didn’t look overly impressed, but then again, when did she?  
“I need to show you something. I promise it won’t take long, and we’ll be back before curfew.” Héctor replied, trying not to think of how soft and warm Imelda’s hands were.  
“What could you possibly want to show me this late at night?” Imelda asked, her expression beginning to turn disapproving. “Ugh, it’s not some idiotic stunt that de la Cruz has put you up to, is it?”  
“No, no, Ernesto fell asleep hours ago.” Héctor reassured her, “It’s something better. Come on, or we might miss it _and_ miss curfew!” Well, when it was put that way, and with a smile as charming and excited as that…  
“Alright, lets make it quick.” Imelda agreed, following Héctor back down the steps as she let go of his hand. Not that it felt awkward to keep holding on, but it would be easier for them to both move if they weren’t holding each other.  
Héctor couldn’t help but beam as he took off, making sure Imelda was close behind him as they weaved through the trees, avoiding the possibility to be spotted on their way down to the lakeside. At this time of night, any little waves that usually danced across the surface of the water had stilled, leaving an almost mirror-like surface on which the full moon left its dazzling reflection. The sight was enough to make even Imelda stop and smile in awe.  
“Dios mío, it’s beautiful.” Imelda said softly as she stared out at the lake, appreciating the gentle ripples through the moon’s reflection. Or, at least, until Héctor gave a soft laugh beside her.  
“That’s not what I wanted to show you. _That_ is.” Héctor set his hand on Imelda’s shoulder, drawing her attention down his arm to where he was pointing.

 

Appearing to glide across the surface of the water was a singular swan. Larger than average, it’s feathers glowed in the moonlight, giving it an almost ghostly appearance. Imelda gave a soft gasp as she watched the elegant bird pass through the moon’s light, which only enhanced its glow.  
“Incredible...” she breathed, taking a step closer to the lake’s edge. Héctor stayed close to her, worried in case she got too close and fell.  
“Yeah, it is.” He smiled, his expression soft and perhaps, one could even go as far to say, smitten. Indeed, the poor boy was practically head over heels for the daughter of Athena, loving everything about her: the warm browns of her hair that carried the faintest highlights in the sun; the way her eyes always carried a knowing look when she was talking, or a shimmer of curiosity in moments like this; it seemed mad to say, but Héctor had fallen for her fiesty attitude as well. He had to stop himself from letting out an audible, dreamy sigh as Imelda began to twirl her bangs around her finger, one of her many little tics that Héctor just couldn’t seem to get enough of.  
“Thank you for showing me this.” Imelda smiled as she turned back to face him; it was all Héctor could do to quickly wipe the dreamy look from his face and try to keep the blush away.  
“O-Oh, y-you’re very welcome, Imelda. I-I saw it on my way back to the cabin and it really caught my eye and I thought that you would really appreciate seeing it so I came to get you right away.” He rambled in a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. Imelda lifted her hand to her mouth as she giggled, shaking her head at Héctor’s admittedly adorable ways.  
“Come on, we need to head back before curfew. I’m not getting in trouble and saying it was because I was looking at a swan.” Imelda smiled as she began walking, only pausing to plant a soft kiss on Héctor’s cheek as she passed him.

 

 _Oh_. Héctor was frozen, quickly losing the ability to move or even breathe as he gained a deep red colour across his face, right up to the tips of his ears. All he could do was stare at Imelda as she walked away, his hand coming up to shyly touch the place he was kissed. Imelda Rivera, one of the most beautiful and stunning girls at the camp with a temper to rival Hades himself, had just kissed him.  
Héctor giggled. The sound was akin to the typical schoolgirl talking about her crush and getting all flustered whenever he came near. Imelda kissed him! He couldn’t help himself, really.  
“Rivera, come on! What are you waiting for?” Imelda called back at him, waving her arm in a gesture that invited Héctor to follow her.  
“N-Nothing! Coming!” Héctor called back, glancing back at the swan before he ran to catch up with Imelda. He couldn’t wait to tell Ernesto what had happened.


	5. The First Time

The last night of summer was already here, and Héctor was rather sad to see it come round so quickly. Whilst it meant that his best friend would be leaving again to return home until the start of Summer next year, it signalled the start of the talent show when he would get to see Ernesto perform. He already knew the son of Pheme would be amazing; he always was. It made Héctor jealous how readily Ernesto could strike up a song and have the phenominal ability to capture an audience’s interest in seconds. Héctor desperately wished that he had the confidence to get up on stage and do something like that. But here he was, stuck backstage providing support and reassurance to those confident enough to perform.

 However, Héctor was struggling to do that tonight. His mind was preoccupied, his eyes glancing round the curtains to scan the crowd. He wondered if Imelda was sitting out there, if she was enjoying herself. He hoped she was. The kiss from the previous night was still at the forefront of his memory, a range of alternate scenarios looping around in his head. And then, Héctor spotted her. Taking a seat in the front row, Imelda crossed her ankles and tucked her legs benath her chair, smoothing out her skirt before resting her hands in lap. Everything about her was graceful, from the way she sat to the way her loose hair tumbled over her shoulder where her braid would normally sit. Seeing Imelda with her hair down for once made Héctor’s heart flutter, and a blissful sigh escaped his lips. In his daydreaming state, he almost missed Ernesto speaking to him.  
“Aye, amigo!” Ernesto rolled his eyes as he tapped Héctor’s shoulder, snatching the unclaimed’s attention back to reality, “I’m going on to play now, get your head out of dreamland and wish me luck.”  
“O-Oh, sorry, Ernesto. Good luck!” Héctor beamed, rubbing the back of his neck as he did so. It was unlike him to zone out this badly, but ever since the kiss, he hadn’t been able to focus properly. Ernesto simply sighed and patted Héctor on the shoulder, giving him a slight smile to tell him it was alright before he took to the stage with his guitar. Héctor rubbed his face with both hands before pushing them through his hair. He didn’t really know why he had to wish Ernesto luck, he was the son of Pheme, the goddess of fame. He didn’t need luck to be a famous musician, all he needed was his mother’s favour.

And, of course, Ernesto’s performance had the crowd wrapped around his little finger within the first few chords. It always did, and Héctor was no exception to this rule. Usually. Tonight though, as he stood in the wings out of sight from the crowd, his attention was on Imelda, and Ernesto’s music simply provided a backdrop for his daydreaming. Whilst there was a slight smile on Imelda’s face – perhaps out of curteous appreciation – something told Héctor that she wasn’t thinking about Ernesto’s music either. That thought was confirmed when Imelda looked directly past Ernesto and straight at Héctor, her widening smile making Héctor’s guts twist and his breath catch. She was just too much...

And then, it was over. Ernesto had finished singing and was taking a bow, soaking up the attention and glory of the crowd’s applause. This was truly what Ernesto lived for, this true source of energy. A grin as bright as the sun was plastered across his face, his arms open wide as he took dramatic sweeping bows, even as he made his way off the stage to where Héctor was waiting.  
“That was really good, Ernesto.” Héctor smiled at his friend, who laughed softly and pushed the guitar into Héctor’s arms.  
“Now it’s _your_ turn, amigo.” Ernesto grinned, the expression turning from pride to a touch of slyness.  
Héctor stared at Ernesto, wide-eyed in shock, “Wh-What? B-But I’m not on the list, I’m not performing.” He pointed out, blinking up at Ernesto before looking down at the guitar.  
“Of course you are. You _have_ to.” Ernesto insisted, putting his hands on Héctor’s shoulders to turn him in the direction of the crowd, “Look, amigo. She’s there, waiting. I know you like her, so you have to impress her. You have to sing, you have to play, you have to _perform_!”  
Whilst Héctor agreed with Ernesto’s words, there was no way that he could go out there and do all of that! Yes, he could sing, and he could play, but he most definitely could _not_ perform. “But Ernesto-“  
“Now, go! Seize your moment!” Ernesto grinned as he pushed Héctor out onto the stage hard enough to make him stumble in surprise. 

Héctor managed to catch himself in the middle of the stage, the guitar clutched tightly to his chest. He didn’t have to look up to know that everybody was staring at him. All of those eyes... and _hers_. Héctor couldn’t breathe. It was a miracle that he even managed to stand up straight against the crushing weight of the whispers.

_Who was this guy?_

_Was he meant to be here?_

_Why isn’t he performing?_

_What an idiot..._

 

The boy’s hands shook around the guitar as his stare turned towards the crowd. He couldn’t breathe, he was going to die, how could Ernesto cope with all of this pressure? The whispers were louder now, more questions rising, now interjected with hisses from Ernesto.  
“What are you doing? Sing, Héctor, sing!”  
He couldn’t do this. Especially not as his eyes were drawn to a specific pair in the crowd. No, no, why did he have to look at her? Why, of all people, did he have to look straight at Imelda? Why...   
Imelda’s expression seemed to soften into one of sympathy and concern as she watched Héctor, frozen on the stage. Her hand came up from her lap to rest over her heart, trying to soothe the aching within. And then, he was gone.  
Héctor had sucked in a deep, sudden breath before bolting off the stage with a loud clatter of wood as the guitar was dropped just behind the curtain. If Imelda wasn’t mistaken, there had been the sound of a short cry beneath the loud bang. Damn that de la Cruz bastard... Imelda couldn’t help but growl as she heard laughing from various bits of the crowd, her rage driving her to stand up and head behind the stage before following the path that Héctor would’ve taken.

 

It didn’t take the daughter of Athena long to figure out where the boy had run off to. For her, it was easy to trace the most logical path and, once in earshot, follow the sounds of crying. Sometimes, Imelda loved the intelligence and logical thinking that she inherited from her mother. Other times, when it inhibited her emotional thoughts, not so much.  
Sitting at the end of the jetty, curled into a fragile and defenceless ball, sobbed Héctor. It was... difficult for Imelda to see Héctor like this, especially since she had grown so used to – and fond of – his bright, easygoing personality. Quietly, as if approaching a timid or injured animal, Imelda walked onto the jetty, holding the guitar close to her. She was partly glad that Héctor noticed her before she had to announce herself.  
“I-Imelda?” Héctor sniffled, rubbing at his bloodshot and teary eyes as he avoided her gaze, “A-Are you... are you hear to laugh at me too?” he asked dejectedly. As if he wasn’t humiliated enough...  
“What? No, of course not. I came to see if you were alright, actually.” Imelda frowned, sitting down beside Héctor, “Are you? Alright, that is.” Stupid question.  
And yet, Héctor nodded, “Yeah... I-I’ll be fine.” He mumbled, hugging his knees closer to his chest as he rested his chin on his forearms.  
“You can talk to me, y’know. I won’t judge you. I thought you would know that by now?” Imelda raised a slight eyebrow, though she didn’t make anything of it. “I know that wasn’t you choosing to go on stage. I... I brought you the guitar – I don’t know if it’s yours, or if it’s de la Cruz’s. I doubt he would want this back after I slapped him, though...”  
“Y-You slapped Ernesto?” Héctor sniffed in surprise, looking up to Imelda; nobody had ever stood up to Ernesto before.  
“Of course I slapped him. He pushed you on stage against your will, you think I would let that go?” Imelda exclaimed, though her voice remained relatively quiet. “I... I was wondering something though.”  
Héctor’s gut twisted nervously; _here it comes..._ Even if he didn’t know what _it_ was, he was still anxious about the question. “What is it?”  
“I… I was wondering if you would play for me, Héctor?”

 

The way his name rolled off her tongue almost pulled a gasp from between his lips. Héctor thought it impossible to adore and admire somebody as much as he did with Imelda, yet here he was, reaching all new heights of infatuation. The way she said it, so soft and tentatively, lifted Héctor’s heart out of the pit of his stomach and back into its rightful place in his chest. Could he even bring himself to play for her though? In his mind, playing to the girl who had stolen his heart was just as daunting as the entire camp. And yet…  
“You… You don’t have to, if you don’t feel comfortable.” Imelda added on after a moment, her eyes glancing down to the guitar in her lap. “I understand not everybody can be as confident as de la Cruz.”  
“W-Well, he _is_ the son of the goddess of fame.” Héctor pointed out, a slight smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “I suppose it runs in his blood.”  
“As does a lot of other things, but that doesn’t mean he’s the son of that.” Imelda smiled, the gesture only growing Héctor’s own smile. The unclaimed bit his lip as he took a deep breath in before letting it out slowly, his hands moving independently to take the guitar from Imelda’s lap and settle it in his own. Questions and doubts began to race around his mind as he tried to think of what he could play, the ideas mixing with criticisms. Héctor closed his eyes, his right hand hovering over the strings of the guitar before clenching into a fist as he took a slow, deep breath in, holding it for a second before he let it out, his fingers moving almost automatically. After a moment of playing the opening chords, Héctor began to sing.

 

_“In Napoli, where love is king,_

_When a boy meets a girl,_

_Here’s what they say.”_

_“When the moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie-“_

 

Héctor was cut off by a sound beside him, blinking in surprise to find that it was a soft snort of laughter from Imelda, “What? Those are the words!” Héctor laughed softly, a wide smile across his face as he looked across at Imelda, who held her hand over her mouth.  
“I’m sorry, Héctor. Please, continue.” She smiled, clearing her throat as she regained her composure, looking at Héctor to encourage him to continue. Héctor smiled before picking up the chords again.

 

_“When the moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie-“_

Another soft laugh from Imelda, who tried her best to keep a straight face despite the rather silly words.

_“That’s amore._

_When the world seems to shine, like you’ve had too much wine,_

_That’s amore._

_Bells will ring, ting-a-ling-a-ling, ting-a-ling-a-ling,_

_And you’ll say “Vita bella~”_

_Hearts will play tippy-tippy-tay, tippy-tippy-tay,_

_Like a gay tarantella.”_

_“When the stars make you drool just like a pasta fazool,_

_That’s amore._

_When you dance down the street with a cloud at your feet,_

_You’re in love._

_When you walk in a dream but you know you’re not dreaming, signora,_

_Scuzza me, but back in old Napoli,_

_That’s amore~”_

With a last little strum of the guitar’s strings, Héctor finished, his gaze moving out towards the lake, only to turn towards Imelda at the wrong – or in some opinions, right – time. Whilst her intentions had been innocent, and her aim for a freckle on Héctor’s cheekbone, the shy turn of his head threw everything off. It was just the corner of his lips, but even that sparked a hot flush of colour to spread across both of their faces. The two stared at each other in shock before Héctor’s nerves took over; a soft, apprehensive laugh escaped Héctor’s lips, more following after Imelda started to giggle as well. After that, very little stopped them as they burst into giddy laughs, blushing and grinning at each other.  
“I’m gonna miss this.” Héctor sighed after a moment of laughing between them. A touch of sadness settled on his features as he stared out at the lake, watching a pair of swans courting in the moonlight. “I’m gonna miss you. And Ernesto.”  
“Don’t be sad, Héctor. We’ll both miss you too, even if de la Cruz is a self-centred idiot at times.” Imelda rolled her eyes before shuffling closer to Héctor, pressing up against his side, “I promise I’ll write to you, send you gifts when I can. And like that, it’ll be May before you know it, and we’ll be back.” The daughter of Athena smiled softly, glancing at Héctor as he looked up at her.  
“Gracias, Imelda.” The boy smiled. Another summer had passed without him being claimed by his godly parent, but it hadn’t been a total waste. As he smiled, and began to strum softly on his guitar again, his thoughts turned to the year ahead, already counting down the days until Imelda and Ernesto would return.


End file.
